


What the Cat Dragged In

by owlettica



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Awkward Seduction, Awkward Sexual Situations, Breaking and Entering, Canon-Typical Violence, Confessions, Dirty Talk, Disco, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, Fluff and Smut, Humorous smut, Implied Gordlock, M/M, Nostalgia, Past Relationship(s), Seduction, Sexual Coercion, Sexual Content, Sexual Humor, Sexual Tension, Snooping, Suggestive Themes, Verbal Humiliation, Voyeurism, Workplace Relationship, Workplace Sex, Zsasz being Zsasz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-09-07 00:58:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20300821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlettica/pseuds/owlettica
Summary: Zsasz returns to Penguin’s employ, hoping to enjoy all the “fringe benefits” of the past—only to discover the kingpin doesn’t share his enthusiasm for returning to the way things were. As Victor hangs out with Penguin’s new crew, he gets some ideas that he hopes might convince Oswald to return to “the good old days”.This fic takes place sometime between seasons 3 and 4.Cover art care of the lovely and talented, SaiScribbles. You can also findSai’s cover art on imgur.______I’m in no way associated with Gotham. I’m just a sick fan writing my headcanon(s) du jour and/or what I wish we could’ve seen on the show. Please don’t sue me. I haven’t any money.





	1. Meet and Greet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Burke takes over after Mayor Cobblepot’s presumed death, Penguin reappears and approaches Zsasz about working for him again. The hitman happily accepts and meets the kingpin’s new crew.

** **

**卌**

Victor is delighted to receive a summons from Penguin. Apparently, the man has some ambitious plans for Gotham that require his _ very _ special touch. Although Zsasz hasn’t been in Cobblepot’s regular employ since the days Galavan had him on the ropes, the hitman still remembers Oswald’s storied outbursts and fussiness. 

Victor figures things will go back to how they _ used _ to be—with _ all _the fringe benefits of the past. 

He still fondly remembers the days Penguin was willing to do just about _ anything _ to curry favor with Don Falcone. Victor regularly put in a good word for Oswald and looked out for him—provided he returned the favor with a handjob or blowy in the bathroom... or the hallway... or the limo….

[ _ And that time Don Falcone walked in on us in the study when I had him bent over the mahogany desk.... _ ](https://jokesterwrites.tumblr.com/post/146269683690/sing-for-me-zsaszlepo)

As time went on, Oswald continued coming around now and then for a little fun. However, once the kingpin began his mayoral bid, all that stopped. 

The Gotham Gazette and local news regularly plastered pictures of the underworld king turned mayoral candidate who eventually became _ Mayor _ Cobblepot—always accompanied by his devoted and reverential Chief of Staff, Edward Nygma. That was around the time Zsasz first noticed how _ different _ Penguin looked. Victor couldn’t exactly say _ how _(not with any certainty), but Oswald definitely didn’t look the same.

_ The tan maybe? _

Zsasz recalls Nygma approaching him about Penguin’s inaugural celebration at Sirens. The man laid out a trap to test Butch’s loyalty (which was in question at the time). Zsasz happily accepted the gig in hopes of a quickie with Gotham’s new mayor, but the only action he got that night was when Gilzean tossed him over the bar.

It was only after righting himself and discovering that _ Penguin _ had saved Nygma from the bruiser did Zsasz _ finally _figure out why Oswald looked so different. 

_ Penguin’s hot for Nygma? _

**卌**

The King of Gotham instructs Victor to report to his new club for the gig. Zsasz has been in “the biz” for a long time so not much surprises him. However, when he arrives, he’s taken aback by the sight of Nygma or Riddles (or whatever-the-fuck he goes by) encased in a block of ice. Victor arches a brow and knowingly smiles.

_ Guess Penguin’s _ ** _not_ ** _ so hot for Nygma anymore. _

As Victor walks closer to check out the Nygmacicle, an exasperated redhead dressed in various shades of green walks out of the French doors to the club’s office. She’s shaking her head and rolling her eyes. When she walks up to him, she huffs, shifts her weight to one side and places a hand on her hip. The young woman points to him with her free hand.

“You’re Zsasz, right?”  
  
“Uh-huh.”  
  
“I’m Ivy… _ Pepper_. He’s on a call right now. He said for you to wait from him out here. He’ll call for you in a little bit.”

About that time, Zsasz hears the whizzing noises and steady, mechanical thuds approaching. He turns to find a platinum-haired stunner with ice blue eyes and a cryosuit walking into the club. The man immediately heads to Penguin’s frozen captive to check the structure and the temperature. If Victor didn’t know any better, he’d swear it just got colder. 

The redhead looks over and points a thumb at the guy.

“That’s Fries.”

The henchman tilts his head, squints an eye and meticulously appraises the man before looking back at the kid.

“_Freeze_, huh?”

They return their gaze to the iceman who’s now looking back at them like he’s waiting for something. Ivy takes the opportunity to introduce the men.

“Fries? _ Zsasz_. Zsasz? _ Fries_.”

The men wordlessly regard one another with a nod before Zsasz snaps his fingers and grins, suddenly piping up with remembrance.

“Oh _ yeah._” Victor approaches the man. “I know you! Arkham? Indian Hill, right?” 

Zsasz wiggles a finger at Nygma in his frozen prison. 

“So _ you _did the...”

Fries casually replies.

“Yeah.”

The hitman responds with an impressed nod and wide grin.

“Woah.” Generally speaking, Zsasz isn’t easy to impress but this is unlike anything he’s ever seen before. “That’s really cool, man.”

Zsasz puffs out a self-congratulatory snort at the serendipitous colloquialism. Fries’ voice brings his attention back.

“You were Falcone’s enforcer, weren’t you?”

Zsasz casually shrugs and nods. He answers, his tone matter-of-fact.

“Yeah. That’s how I met Penguin actually.” Zsasz leans towards the iceman and squints a little. “You know, before he took over Mooney’s? I worked for The Don back then—at least ‘til he headed south anyway. Worked for Penguin after that… but then he became mayor, so…” 

He pops off a quick, two-toned whistle before shrugging.

“So much for _ that_. Then everybody thought he was dead so… it’s been awhile since I’ve had a regular gig.” He casually nods, “Been freelancin’ a lot.” 

Freeze looks at Zsasz and nods towards Ivy.

“Yeah, I was on my own before Ivy and Penguin found me.” Freeze briefly checks his equipment again before lookin’ back at the leathered man. “What kinda work?”

Zsasz shrugs and idly wraps a leathered hand around a strap of his shoulder holster, waving the other as he talks.

“Oh. You know. The usual. Intimidation… kidnapping… torture… contract kills.” He nods, “_That _ kinda thing.” 

Pepper cringes. 

The iceman casually nods and glances towards Penguin’s office. 

“You’re not far off about Penguin dying.”

He leans to one side while he points a thumb over a shoulder at Ed. 

“Nygma shot him.” Fries nods towards Ivy and talks out of one side of his mouth. “Pepper found him and nursed him back to health. _ Plants_.”

Victor raises a brow and pulls down the corners of his mouth, offering the young redhead an impressed nod. 

“Woah. Ya don’t say?” Zsasz leans towards her, tilts his head and squints. “Ya know, my bubbe swears by aloe vera and herbal tea. I help her garden whenever I go visit her.”

Ivy’s eyes suddenly brighten at the topic of gardening. 

“Really? What does she grow?”

Zsasz shrugs.

“Oh, all kindsa stuff.” He scrunches his mouth to one side and briefly looks up before returning her gaze and ticking things off his fingers. “Mmm… vegetables, fruits, herbs and flowers. She’s got fruit trees and ornamentals. She wants me to dig her some new beds the next time I go see her.”

Just as Ivy excitedly begins touting the benefits of biodiversity in the garden, a small woman in a silver bodysuit with a flamethrower walks into the lounge with a delivery man. The brunette walks up to Ivy points a thumb over a shoulder, interrupting.

“Penguin’s new office furniture is here.” 

The woman turns her attention to the assassin while Pepper talks to the man. 

“You Zsasz?”

“Uh-huh.” 

Victor slyly smiles, tilts his head and offers her a slow, lopsided grin. He points a finger at her and squints an eye. 

“You’re _ Firefly_, right?”  
  
“Yeah. Bridgit. _ Pike_.”

Bridgit notices the small gap between Victor’s teeth when he flashes the left side of his mouth and nods.

“Ya know… me and The Girls _ really _ love you work. We’ve never tried _ fire _ before.”

He leans in towards the woman, scrunching his mouth to one side.

“Ya know… whenever ya getta little time, I’d _ really _like to talk to you about it.”

Just about then, a couple of delivery men walk into the lounge with Penguin’s new furniture. Ivy escorts them to the office. When Victor catches sight of The Boss’ new desk, his face splits into a wide grin. 

He can already picture Oswald bent over it. 

—

Later, Penguin concludes his meeting when his furniture arrives. He meets with Zsasz out in the lounge to give him the lowdown on his new responsibilities when he starts rolling out the Pax Penguina in a few weeks. After The Boss gets all the formalities out of the way, Victor sticks close by him like the job requires. 

Zsasz takes every opportunity to let Oswald know he’s still very, _ very _ interested in him—especially since Nygma’s obviously been taken out of play. Problem is, the kingpin doesn’t appear all that interested anymore. Victor’s not sure if it’s because the man thinks he’s too good to get banged by the help or what, but every overture he makes is met with the cold shoulder. 

Speaking of cold shoulders, he finds he finds Freeze very, _ very _ easy on the eyes. Victor slowly rubs his lips back and forth, considering the looker.

_ I wonder if he’s gotta wear that thing all the time. I’d love to know what he looks like without it. _

—

As the days pass, Victor regularly works on Penguin, He makes a concerted effort to “accidentally” brush against him or purr into his ear. Sometimes, he wistfully reminisces about the old times and their particularly storied sexcapades. 

“[Remember that time I gave you a ride on my motorcycle to Don Falcone’s when you were still wearin’ that butt—?” ](https://jokesterwrites.tumblr.com/post/146269683690/sing-for-me-zsaszlepot)

Penguin presses his eyes and mouth shut. He interrupts Victor before he can finish his reverie about _ that _infamous little tryst, his voice growing impatient.

“Victor.”

Zsasz sighs and wistfully grins.

“Any chance you’d be up for another little spin? You know… for old time’s sake’?”

Oswald insists they “can’t do that anymore” and “need to move on”, but all his tells say otherwise: his creeping flush and fluttering lashes, the way he shifts in his chair and clears his throat when Victor regularly catches him staring at his mouth, ass or crotch. 

One slow mid-morning after Penn leaves the club, Victor approaches Penguin as he reads the paper in his office. He walks around the desk and looms over the kingpin, strategically placing his crotch at eye-level where Oswald sits at his desk. It doesn’t take long for Victor to notice the man’s reddening ears. Penguin huffs, never bothering to look up.

“What do you want, Victor? I’m busy.”

Zsasz scoffs.

“You’re just reading the paper.”

Oswald sighs with exasperation. 

“Don’t you have something to do?”

Victor leans towards the man and his voice grows playful and teasing.

“No. Doesn’t really look like _ you _ do either. But I can think of some stuff we _ can _ do…” He purrs, “You know... _ together_.” 

When Oswald continues staring at the paper, Zsasz persists.

_“C’mon._ It’ll be _ fun_. Don’t chya remember all the fun we _ used to _ have?” Victor’s voice grows wistful. “_I sure do.” _

Zsasz nudges Oswald’s forearm with his leg and slowly rubs it back and forth, biting his lower lip.

Penguin furtively glances at Zsasz’s package before looking up and blushing. He takes a deep breath and huffs out, mildly perturbed.

“Victor. We’ve _ discussed _ this. Things are... _ different _ now.” He briefly glances at his henchman’s mouth. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea for us to—.”

“Fuck?”

Penguin shuts his eyes and cringes. He stiffly nods and sighs with annoyance.

“Precisely.”

Victor leans behind the man, placing both hands on the chair’s armrests. He nudges Oswald’s neck and takes long, slow inhalation of Penguin’s cologne. 

_ Mmm. _

Zsasz growls into the man’s ear—his lips grazing the shell of it. 

“Well… how about we do some _ other _ stuff then? You know, that _ isn’t _ fucking?”

Oswald hesitates just long enough to encourage the incorrigible man. Victor takes the man’s earlobe between his teeth and playfully tugs it.

“Besides, you haven’t seen my new scars.”

Victor stands upright, one side of his mouth curling upward as he gazes down at Oswald. He slowly and deliberately removes his shoulder holster, jacket and crocodile leather vest, placing each and every item on Penguin’s desk. Zsasz smirks as The Boss forgets his newspaper and guiltily watches on. 

Once Victor arrives at his tailored, aubergine dress shirt with the white hash mark pattern, he raises a brow and reaches for the back of his head to flex the biceps of one arm. All the while, he slowly drags his other hand across his pecs and down his abs. Zsasz teases Oswald in a sing-song voice.

“I’ve been working out more, too.” He swivels his hips and arches a brow. “Don’tcha wanna see?”

Victor begins unbuttoning his shirt when Oswald doesn’t protest. He manages to undo five buttons and reaches for the sixth when the kingpin interrupts him. 

“V-Victor, that’s quite enough.”

Zsasz arches a brow as he flexes his pecs and abs. 

“Ya _ sure?_”

Oswald’s only response is to nervously chew a thumbnail. Victor reaches for the man’s lovely hand, bites his lower lip and guides the kingpin’s fingers to his bare chest. The henchman painstakingly drags it downward. His voice grows throaty, _ lustful_.

“Not even a _ little _ peek?”

Penguin swallows hard, considering the taut muscles roiling beneath his fingertips. His breathing gradually accelerates. 

_ He really _ ** _has_ ** _ been working out more. He’s got a _ ** _lot_ ** _ more definition in his pecs and abs…. Oh. This scar’s new. _

The crime lord traces it with his index finger until he sees another completed set peeking just past the open placket of Victor’s shirt. He slowly sweeps his fingertips toward it and reverently fingers the set.

_ So are these. Perhaps I _ ** _am_ ** _ being too dismissive. Maybe we _ ** _could _ ** _ still... _

The sound of his own loud swallow finally brings Penguin back to his senses. He blinks, nervously shakes his head and removes his hand.

“N-no, Victor. I have… _ work _ to do. Please see yourself out.”

Penguin immediately raises his newspaper and sticks his pointy nose back into it. Victor smugly smiles and slowly buttons himself back up, taking note of the man’s furtive glances as he does. The henchman makes a show of leaning over Oswald’s desk to gather his things, flexing his triceps and lats—taking _ full _ advantage of his shirt’s tailoring. 

“You’re The Boss.”

Zsasz smugly grins as he swaggers out of Penguin’s office. 

_ With _ ** _just_ ** _ the right push, we’ll be having fun like we used to in _ ** _no_ ** _ time. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zsasz’s wistful remembrances of banging Oswald over Don Falcone’s desk (after a *coughs* unforgettable bike ride) are taken from one of my all-time favorite Zsaszlepot smuts: JokesterWrites’ “Sing For Me”. It’s so filthy and fun! :3 I embedded a couple of links in the story if you wanna check it out.
> 
> This fic is… well, besides being the first challenge for which I signed up, a bit of a mixed bag. It has several ideas I’ve about Zsasz kickin’ it with the freaks (in particular, the first four chapters). The final two chapters were inspired by a convo I had with Tumblr’s _genius_ lord-garbage.


	2. How To Make Friends and Influence People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zsasz helps Ivy with a project and takes another opportunity to remind Oswald what he’s missing.

**卌**

Victor arrives at the Van Dahl estate in the morning because Pepper said she’d be working in the garden. He enters through the kitchen with two sacks full of groceries from Signorelli’s as a peace offering to Olga. 

He got in trouble with her the day prior for eating most of the fruits and vegetables—and _all_ the snacks. Despite the possibility of incurring her wrath a second time, he couldn’t help but attempt to sample her borscht before dinner. _ That _ transgression earned him several hearty knuckle raps with her wooden spoon.

As he walks in, he grins at the telltale aroma of something baking. He immediately places the groceries on the island and strides over to the stove to flip the oven light on. There are only a few more minutes left on the timer. His eyes widen at the sight of the golden, sugared domes rising above the muffin cups in the pans.

_ Nothin’ says lovin’ like somethin’ from the oven. _

Victor finds two cooling racks and places them onto the stove before returning to the island. He clicks on Olga’s radio and changes it to his favorite station which has just kicked off some Earth, Wind and Fire. He swings his head and his hip to horns blasting horns and a funky common time signature.

[ _Dance! _ ](https://youtu.be/god7hAPv8f0)  
[ _Boogie wonderland!_](https://youtu.be/god7hAPv8f0)  
[ _Ha! ha! Dance!_](https://youtu.be/god7hAPv8f0)

Zsasz’s body instantly aligns with the music. When he sets to remove his gloves, he synchronizes every finger tug with the horns and tosses them aside. He dramatically pushes off his heel to spin before dancing up to the island to fish out the produce and put it away. The moment he sees Olga at the kitchen entryway, he points at her as he sings into a bunch of carrots with Maurice White. 

_ “Sounds fly through the night _  
_ I chase my vinyl dreams to Boogie Wonderland!” _

Olga shoots him an unamused glare.

Zsasz prances up to her with a wide grin. He tosses the carrots onto the island and takes one of her hands. He gently tugs and raises it, coaxing her into spin.

“_Dance _ with me, Olga.”

She first responds with a narrowed gaze and stern look but it’s hard to stay annoyed at the man’s charm and playfulness. Olga starts off a little stiff, but she slowly smiles and eases. She gradually moves her body with the music (or the bottom half of it anyway. The top part’s still a little stiff). 

Afterwards, he helps her remove the muffins from the oven and finishes putting away the groceries. Olga sends him off to help Ivy with a bellyful of buttered muffins and some lovely English Breakfast tea.

—

Victor heads back to his black Imperial 500 series coup, shrugging out of his shoulder holster and jacket. After tossing his jacket inside the trunk, he stores his rig inside his large leather tool bag. He grabs his shovel, slams the trunk shut and strides out to the grounds. Ivy’s attention is entirely focused on the flower bed she’s sitting in. He cheerily greets her as he approaches with a grin and a bounce in his step.

“Hey, Pepp. Whatcha got for me?”

She pushes her auburn curls from her face with the back of her hand, blinking with surprise. Before her stands Victor Zsasz without his omnipresent jacket or shoulder rig. 

“Y-You’re actually _ here_.” 

Ivy arches a brow at the shovel. Her eyes trail downward and widen at his bag of tools that includes a hand trowel, a weeder and cultivator visible in the bag’s outside pockets.

“W-wait. Is that… an _ actual _ gardening tool bag?” 

He scrunches his mouth and cocks his head to one side and points to the ground.

“Well, _ yeah_. Ya said you were gonna work on your flower beds _ this _morning, didn’t you?”

“I did but… I didn’t think you’d _ actually come._ Nobody ever helps me. Well, Bridgit did once. Freeze _ used _ to, but then he stopped after we planted that Pyrus coronaria.” Her voice grows somewhat distant. “He got kinda weird after that.”

She quizzically shakes her head and circumspectly addresses him.

“Zsasz. A-are those tools actually… _ yours__?_”

“Uh-huh. I told you I help my bubbe all the time—and I don’t use _ anyone else’s _ tools but _ mine._” After a brief pause, he sheepishly scrunches his nose. “Well... except my bubbe’s. When she _ makes _ me.”

He casually shrugs and wiggles his tool bag.

“So, where d’ya want me?”

—

Victor’s in the middle of whistling and digging with his shovel when he hears Ivy’s skeptical tone behind him. 

“Uh… Victor?”

He stops and glances back at her.

“Hmm?”

She finds him looking down and arching a brow at his work.

“I need a _ bed _ here—not a… I dunno what you’re trying to do here. A compost pit maybe? We already have one. That reminds me….”

He looks back down at his work and realizes he’s already two feet deeper than he needs to be.

“Sorry. Habit.” He apologetically shrugs. “_ Lotsa _ graves for Falcone—Penguin, too.”

She dismissively shakes her head and waves him off. 

“That’s okay. I forget stuff too sometimes. Then Penguin yells.” She makes a face. _ “A lot.” _

Zsasz chuckles. 

“_That _ he does.”

Victor shakes his head and grins, his eyes sparkle with mischief. 

“And the way he shrieks right before?”

She covers her mouth and giggles.

“And _ that face _ he makes.”

Victor arches a brow.

“Which one?”

The redhead blinks and shakes her head.

“_You _ know.”

Pepper balls up her hands into fists and dramatically quakes. She scowls and flares her nostrils, mustering her best impersonation of him and spraying spittle. 

_ “IVY!” _

Victor flashes an appreciative open-mouthed smile at her. 

“Not bad, Pepper. Not bad at all.”

—

Victor’s well into extending Ivy’s flower bed when he hears her shout for him.

“Zsasz! Do you have any hand shears? I left mine in the shed.”

He shouts back, never bothering to look up.

“Yeah. Check the outside pockets of my bag. Knock yourself out.”

“Great! Thanks!”

Not long after, he hears her voice again. This time, it’s somewhat uncertain.

“Hey, Zsasz…? I think you got somethin’ on ‘em. What in the world? W-wait. What _ is _ this?”

He strides up to her and peeks over a shoulder, squinting down at them.

“Uh oh. Didn’t clean ‘em very well, did I?”

He shrugs and takes them from her hand, grabs a rag out of his tool bag and wipes them down, scratching away the dirtier parts before handing the tool back to her. 

“Oh nothin’. Justa little blood. I had to take some fingers from a thief without a license last night. I didn’t have my work shears on me but these were in my trunk ‘cause I was gonna help you out today.”

He shakes his head before returning to her flower bed. 

“Real screamer that guy.”

Ivy cringes, immediately puts his shears back where she found them and makes a beeline for the shed.

—

A few hours later, the duo finishes up. They enter the mud room, just beyond the kitchen. Pike casually shuffles in from the kitchen to greet them with a sandwich in one hand and a bottle of soda in the other. She’s in the middle of chewing a huge bite and chases it down with a few gulps of her drink. She gives the duo an impressed nod.

“Nice job out there. It looks really good.” 

Bridgit waves her soda at Victor’s sweaty shirt, dirty trousers and dirt-encrusted boots. 

“But you _ don’t_. You stink, too. _ Bad_.” 

She leans in and gives him a knowing glance. 

“She got you to dig out the compost, didn’t she?”

Victor nods.

“Uh-huh."

He joins Ivy at the sink to scrub his hands with her.

“Hey, Pepp. You ever use any bone meal in your beds? My bubbe does sometimes. I can getcha some if ya want.”

Ivy cringes a little and wrinkles her nose in disgust.

“No. It’s just that…” She leans in like she’s telling him a secret, whispering. “It’s made out of actual _ bones _ and that’s so…” She sticks out her tongue like she has a bad taste in her mouth and shudders. _"Gross." _

Pike snarks.

“It can’t be any grosser than your compost, Ivy.”

Pepper rolls her eyes and shakes her head as she turns off the faucet. She dries off her hands and makes a face at Zsasz’s shirt and trousers (that are in far worse shape than when they started). 

“You bring a change of clothes?” 

Victor frowns down at his soiled clothing and scrunches his face. He really _ does _ stink.

“No.” He dismissively shrugs and points a thumb in the direction of his Imperial. “That’s okay. I can just head back home.”

Pike waves him off.

“Maybe _ Freeze _ has got somethin’ you can wear. You guys are about the same size.”

Zsasz dries off his hands after scrubbing them clean. He immediately strides into the kitchen to make his way to the second freezer that houses Fries, too late to hear Pike’s warning.

“Uh… Zsasz? I wouldn’t go in there like _ that _ if I were you….”

Victor walks into the kitchen. Olga’s cutting up fruit and vegetables for Ivy’s salad. He immediately walks up to the island, his face splitting into a wide grin as he reaches for one of the sandwiches she already prepared. The woman grabs her wooden spoon and raps his knuckles.

“Nyet!”

Olga points the spoon at his filthy clothes, sniffs and waves a hand back and forth in front of her pinched nose. She shakes her head, frowns and grabs him by an ear. In little time, she’s dragging him back to the mud room. She points to the small pocket shower stall, the linen shelf and the dirty clothes hamper. 

“You clean first.”

After Olga huffs and stomps off, Bridgit casually shrugs.

“I _ tried _ to warn you.”

Pike and Pepper head back to the kitchen and close the door behind them, leaving Zsasz to shower in the curtainless stall. 

Ivy’s famished. Her eyes brighten at the sight of the big, beautiful salad Olga prepared and placed at her customary place at the kitchen table. She immediately plops into a chair and dives into it, momentarily forgetting herself until she wipes her mouth with a napkin.

“Thank you, Olga! This is amazing!”

As Ivy and Pike eat their lunch, they’re surprised to see Oswald hobble in a few moments later.

“Excellent. You’re both here. Ladies, as you both know, my upcoming auction will swiftly be upon us. I just spoke with Freeze about my plans for club coverage during that time. Victor will accompany me to the event.”

Ivy rolls her eyes and interrupts between bites of her salad, waving her fork around and huffing. 

“Why does _ Freeze _ always get to do fun stuff and _ we _ always have to stay here?”

Penguin narrows his eyes and takes a deep breath. He rapidly blinks and struggles to remain calm while he clarifies.

“_Zsasz,_ Ivy. Victor _ Zsasz_. He will accompany me to the auction with Mr. Penn and his men to ensure the event runs smoothly. Freeze will remain here at the mansion with a few of Zsasz’s men. I, however, have an important assignment for you and Bridgit. I would like for you two to stay at the club.”

Ivy blinks in shock. 

“Wait. You mean like ‘in charge’?”

Penguin presses his lips together and nods. 

“In a word, yes. I’m trusting you two will ensure things go smoothly in my absence.” 

The redhead’s face lights up with excitement. The brunette’s eyes narrow with skepticism. She crosses her arms and leans back in her chair. 

“What’s the catch?”

Penguin slowly blinks, retracts his facial muscles and presses his lips together.

“What _ ever _ do you mean, Bridgit?”

“You _ never _ let us do anything like this. What’s the catch? There’s gotta be more to it.” 

Ivy stuffs another bite of salad in her mouth and chews. Her eyes dart back between the Penguin and Firefly. The kingpin shifts his weight to his cane, shakes his head and raises a hand to elaborate.

“There’s no catch, Bridgit. I am _ confident _ you two are capable of handling yourselves if the need arises. You know my expectations at the club. We’ll maintain our regular club security and Mr. Penn will be available by phone in the unlikely event you two require any assistance. The _ only _ thing I ask, however, is that you two look for club-appropriate attire since you will be acting in my stead.”

Bridgit scoffs. 

“I _ knew _ it! I’m _ not _ wearing a dress!”

Oswald presses his lips together. 

“Bridgit, you are not required to wear one. There are plenty of stylish club alternatives.”

“But I don’t have anything like that.”

Penguin hobbles up to the table and presses his lips together. 

“Do not trouble yourself with that.” Penguin’s facial muscles retract as he slowly nods and his tone grows stiff with annoyance. “I will cover the expenses for your evening wear and Ivy’s. Freeze can accompany you. I’ve already informed him.”

Pike puffs out a big sigh and her shoulders drop with resignation. She grumbles.

“Fine.”

Oswald slowly blinks and happens to look out the driveway.

“Wait. Is that Zsasz’s Imperial out there? What’s he doing here this early?”

Pepper nods and points her fork in the direction of the mud room, struggling to chew through a huge mouthful of salad. Bridgit answers for her.

“Yeah. He helped Ivy in the garden.” She nods towards the mudroom. “He’s in there.”

Oswald nods. 

“Outstanding. I need to discuss auction night with him before our next briefing with Mr. Penn.”

Just as Bridgit starts to stop him, she smirks and thinks better of it. Ivy arches a brow and makes a face at her while she chews. Pike leans towards Pepper and whispers in her ear.

“Don’tcha wanna see what happens?”

—

Zsasz cheerily dances and sings in the shower, holding the bar of soap to his mouth like a microphone.

[“Workin' at the car wash, girl](https://youtu.be/PkxaunLybuM)  
[ Come on and sing it with me](https://youtu.be/PkxaunLybuM)  
[ Car wash…”](https://youtu.be/PkxaunLybuM)

The mud room door suddenly opens and Penguin walks from around it to face him, stopping dead in his tracks and gaping at the sight of his soapy and taut henchman. Victor suggestively purrs.

“Finally come take a peek?”

Oswald’s face grows hot. He immediately closes the door when it occurs to him the women are just outside in the kitchen. He tries not to stare, but it’s impossible to stop (especially when Victor grins and slowly drags the soap all over his abdominals). 

Penguin’s eyes immediately zero in on Victor’s newer tallies on his arms, shoulders and pecs (now larger and more defined than ever). He works hard to keep himself from following the descent of Zsasz’s hands as they inch toward that sizable penis he remembers with great fondness. 

Oswald shakes his head and clears his throat, forcing himself to look into the man’s mischievous eyes.

“V-Victor. I-I hoped I might speak with you about my plans for the night of the auc….”

Zsasz lathers between his legs and quietly sings to himself.

“...Let me tell you it's always cool  
And the boss don't mind sometimes if you act the fool...”

Victor teases when the color rises in Oswald’s cheeks.

“Oh—did ya wanna _ join me? _ Like you used to?” His voice grows throaty. “Or did ya wanna bath instead?” Zsasz adds with sing-song voice. “I could get your rubber ducky and bath salts... and _join_ you.” He smirks and shrugs. “‘Rub-a-dub-dub, two men in a tub’.”

Penguin absently gapes and hesitates just long enough to encourage the prurient man, who’s put the soap away and now thoroughly rinsing himself beneath the shower head. 

“Or did ya just wanna stand there and watch? You always _loved_ watching.”

He punctuates his statement with a wink.

Oswald clears his throat and smooths down his tie now that there’s no visible lather obscuring his view.

“V-Victor, could you _ please _ put on some clothes?”

The hitman grins and shrugs. 

“Don’t have any. _ Clean _ ones anyway.”

Zsasz nods towards the dirty clothes hamper. His suspenders are dangling over the side of it. Victor pulls down the corners of his mouth, feigning innocence.

“Guess I’m gonna have to stay like this.” He briefly looks down at his body before returning Penguin’s gaze. “Too bad, huh?”

Oswald sticks a finger beneath the collar of his shirt and straightens his tie, remembering Victor’s exhibitionistic tendencies and ‘clothing optional’ philosophy the few times he’s actually off the clock.

“_Please _ cover yourself.”

“But I thought you _ loved _ it when I didn’t wear any—.”

“Victor. _ Enough_.”

The hitman relents, shrugging. 

“Okay, but I gotta towel off first.”

He shuts off the water and makes a production out of walking to the linen shelf dripping wet to select a fluffy towel. He dries his head, shoulders, arms and back, grinning the whole time Oswald tries not to stare. Victor makes a point to position his body for his audience’s benefit, painstakingly toweling around his legs and between them. He can’t help but notice that Oswald has yet to avert his eyes or turn away, despite his embarrassment.

“V-Victor, I was planning on leaving Ivy, Bridgit and Victor in charge at the club and mansion during the night of the auc….”

The kingpin watches Victor, taking note of the blush left behind from the heat of the shower and where the man dried off. Zsasz turns around and juts out his ass. He stretches the towel between his hands, firmly pressing it against his pink haunches as he grins over a shoulder. 

“Wouldn’t wanna miss a spot now, would we?”

—

After thoroughly embarrassing Oswald to the point he finally leaves the mud room, Zsasz taps out a group text to The Girls to swing by with a change of clothes. He walks out with a towel around his waist and another one over his shoulders (mostly out of respect for Olga). He heads over to Freeze’s quarters (the second freezer) and knocks. 

The large door opens and the cryogenicist walks through plumes of billowing cold air. Fries’ eyes crinkle at the sight of “the other Victor” in nothing but a towel.

“What happened to your clothes?”

Zsasz nonchalantly shrugs. 

“I messed ‘em up when I helped Ivy in the garden.”

Fries catches himself staring at the scarred tallies on Zsasz’s torso and arms before returning the man’s gaze and finally replying.

“She got you to dig out the compost, didn’t she?”

The hitman nods and leans to one side. “Uh-huh.” He arches a brow. “Say, man. You got anything I can...?”

The iceman nods. 

“Yeah. Hang on.”

After a few minutes, the man returns with some chinos, boxers, socks and long-sleeved Nine Inch Nails t-shirt. The gunman takes the chilly garments and nods with appreciation.

“Thanks, man.”

The assassin shivers a little when the clothes graze his nipples.

“Woah.” He covers stiff brown peaks with his free hand and forearm. “These things are so hard they could cut glass.” 

Zsasz shivers and nods. 

“Dude. I owe you one.”

“Ya mean that?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Great. Then _ you _ go take Pike and Pepper when they need to go buy auction night stuff.”

“What d’ya mean?”

The tall man rolls his eyes and replies, his tone bored and indifferent.

“Penguin wants ‘em to get something nice for auction night since they’re gonna be in charge at the club.”

The hitman finally nods with understanding. “Ah. Okay.” He tilts his head and scrunches his face. “Say, why don’t you wanna take ‘em?”

Fries sighs with exasperation.

“‘Cause I don’t _ care _ what they wear. And you _ ‘owe me one’_.”

The cryonics expert closes the freezer door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve always wanted to write Victor dancing with Olga. I got the idea to write him helping Ivy in garden after finding some weird crap on my pruning shears and catchin' a big whiff of my rotting compost. It’s also a nod to my lovely collab partner Filthycasual (with whom we share many loves: Zsasz and gardening being two of the biggies). *excitedly waves*
> 
> And hey, I'm all about any and every opportunity for nekked, soapy disco Zsasz. Just sayin'.


	3. Freaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hitman takes Ivy, Firefly and Freeze with him on an assignment. Later, Zsasz and Fries hang out and are surprised to discover they share something in common.

**卌**

Penguin knew Carlo Moretti, a staunch Falcone loyalist, would never comply with Pax Penguina so he sends Zsasz to make an example of the infamous restauranteur. The kingpin wants all the city’s players to see the consequences of defying him. 

According to the street chatter, Moretti invited other prominent families unified against Penguin to break bread and discuss how to oust the usurper of Gotham’s underworld. Because the families were well-acquainted with The Girls and many of Victor’s men, the hitman elects to bring Pike, Pepper and Fries along for the assignment. 

Zsasz waits with Freeze in his Imperial, parked a block from Moretti’s Sapori Veri. The restaurant has a “Closed for Private Party” sign outside and two huge guys guarding the entrance. The Calabreses, Fiorentinos and the Osannis have already arrived. 

The gunman kicks back and watches Ivy approach the restaurant in that bafflingly disarming way she has about her, looking like someone’s clueless kid sister. The young woman strides right up, attempting to enter through the front door but the larger of the two men blocks her way. He holds up his hand and shakes his head. 

“Sorry, Miss. We’re closed today for a private party.”

Pepper places a hand on her hip and nods towards the restaurant.

“But me and my friends really need to get in there.”

When she tries to enter again, the guy tries reasoning with her. 

“Miss, we’ll be open tomorrow. You can come back then.”  
  
The other large man pipes up with annoyance and points at the sign.

“What’sa matter? Can’t you read the sign? _ Beat _ it, kid! Or are ya _ deaf _ too?” 

Ivy rolls her eyes and huffs.

“Fine. If you’re gonna be _ that _ way…”

She walks directly in front of the men and raises her wrists to their noses, making their faces suddenly blank. On autopilot, they open the door and wave her inside. Ivy turns around and waves back at Zsasz’s Imperial. The gunman shakes his head and chuckles, elbowing the cryogenicist. 

“I _ love _ this kid.”  
  
Freeze dismissively shrugs. He grabs his walkie talkie to inform Pike, who’s already waiting in the alley behind the restaurant.  
  
“Ready, Sparky?”

Firefly replies through her comms.

“Let’s light these losers up.”

Pike walks around the corner. Several big burly guys are shooting the shit just outside the service entrance—too busy laughing to even notice her. One man pulls a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and nudges out a stogy, offering it to one of his friends, who happily accepts it and raises it to his mouth. 

The woman smiles and readies her flamethrower. 

“Hey, guys. Need a light?”

Before the men can grab their weapons, Bridgit sets them all ablaze.

—

Zsasz winks at Freeze and unholsters a Sig before opening the car door.

“Boogie time.”

The Victors exit the Imperial and swagger up to the restaurant. Inside, Ivy’s presence is already causing commotion. She approaches the men guarding the foyer, draws them close and whispers in their ears while she nods behind her toward the street.

“Zsasz and Freeze will be here in a sec. You need to let ‘em in. If any of your men try to stop them, shoot _ your _ guys—_not them,_ okay?”

The men nod and unholster their weapons as Ivy walks past the hostess stand and into the restaurant. The moment Carlo Moretti sees her enter, he stands up from the head of a large table with several men seated at it.

“Hey, sweetheart, we’re closed! Ya gotta come back tomorrow.” The restaurant owner hollers towards the front of the restaurant. “Hey Tony! Vince! Which one of you jack-asses let this girl—?”

Freeze and Zsasz walk past the men guarding the foyer and into the restaurant with their weapons drawn. Some of the few restaurant staff on duty drop everything and run for the kitchen or out the front door. Zsasz whistles and cheekily addresses the crowd.

“Hey, guys! What’s up?”

The Victors open fire. They easily pick off several men at the table and around the restaurant before their victims can even draw their weapons. Zsasz takes out most of his targets with head shots. Freeze sprays a frozen swath, easily taking out three men at the table and critically injuring a few more. 

The hitman already knew ‘the other Victor’ was a good marksman, but he’s really impressed when the tall man rises back up after he’s hit by a shotgun blast thanks to his cryosuit. When Freeze’s shocked assailant blinks in disbelief, Victor chuckles when his namesake freezes the wide-eyed man with a gaping mouth.

In the chaos, Moretti sprints off amidst the gunfire through a door labeled “Employees Only”. The hitman quickly follows suit, hollering after the fleeing man. The iceman joins him once after taking out the remaining men with an ice grenade.

“C’mon, Carlo! Make this easy on yourself!” 

The man yells back and opens fire, taking temporary shelter behind some stacked boxes of inventory.  
  
“Fuck Penguin! And you too, Zsasz! How can you side with that freak?! Ain’tcha got any loyalty?”

Zsasz returns fire, shouting between shots as he hunts the man down the corridor.

“Don Falcone’s gone, Carlo. Penguin’s Boss now and you _ know _ it.”

The duo follow Morettei through a couple of doors and finally arrive at a private office the man entered a few seconds ahead of them. Zsasz kicks the door open and begins firing only to find Moretti taking cover behind some substantial bulletproof glass. Despite Victor’s best efforts, his numerous rounds are useless. Moretti taunts him from behind his protective barrier.

“That all you got, Zsasz? This glass is the best on the market. Your whores and your men and **you freaks** can’t do _ shit _ against it! None o’ youse! _ Fuck _ ** _all _ ** _ you! _ ** _And_ ** _ Penguin!_”

The assassin doesn’t usually let anyone get to him but the man’s crack about The Girls warrants a narrowed gaze and slow, seething scowl. Just when Victor really feels his anger coil, Fries adjusts his cryo gun and blasts the bulletproof glass, rendering it to an icy sheet. The gunman’s lips part with amazement when the structural integrity of the glass begin to falter. 

Freeze casually walks up to the glass and punches it. The assassin shakes his head and stretches to a wide, toothy grin when it crumbles to the floor. His brow arches at ‘the other Victor’.

“_Thanks,_ man.”

The icy, blue-eyed man casually shrugs.

“No problem.”

Zsasz clicks in a magazine and steps over the destroyed glass right up to Moretti who’s cowering on the floor. Victor waves at the man with a raptorial grin.

“Hi, Carlo. ‘Can’t do shit’, huh? Maybe not.” He arches a brow and nods over at Freeze. “But _ he _ sure can.” 

Freeze smirks at the recoiling man.

Zsasz’s lip curls as he releases the safety. The moment he’s about to fire a round into the pleading man’s head, he thinks better of it.

“On second thought…” Victor squints. “_What _ was that you said earlier?” The hitman briefly looks up. “Oh right. _ ‘My… whores’? _ They’re _ ladies, _ Carlo. Ya know, if Don Falcone _ was _ here, he’d teach you a lesson in _ respect_. But… seein’ how he _ isn’t _ here anymore…” Zsasz pulls down the corners of his mouth and nods. “I’m sure the ladies would be _ happy _ to.”

—

Not long after, The Girls pick up their new playmate and some fantastic Italian from the half-frozen, half-charred and bullet-riddled restaurant. Zsasz, Pike, Pepper and Freeze return to the Van Dahl estate with their own spoils. Ivy influences the kitchen staff to make hers vegan. 

The moment the team enters the kitchen, Zsasz grabs his caprese chicken, his eggplant parmesan and his pasta e fagioli. He promptly opens them and begins eating at the kitchen island, never bothering to look for a chair. Just as he considers asking Bridgit for a bite of her ziti, Pepper approaches him.

“Uhh, Zsasz. Would you please take Freeze’s food down to him?”

Victor tilts his head as he chews.

“He’s not eatin’ up here with us?”

Pike shakes her head before shoving a forkful of food in her mouth.

“He usually eats alone.”

Pepper chews her lower lip as she slides Fries’ food toward the gunman. She quietly whispers to him out of the side of her mouth.

“I don’t think he likes to eat with _ me_.”

Zsasz blinks in surprise. 

—

Victor knocks at Freeze’s door, thinking back on the kid’s earlier comment. When the freezer door opens, Zsasz is greeted by frosty air and The Smashing Pumpkins blaring.

[ _ Lovely girl, you're the murder in my world _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9uWwvQKGjLI&feature=youtu.be)  
[ _ Dressing coffins for the souls I've left to die… _](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9uWwvQKGjLI&feature=youtu.be)

When the plumes dissipate, Zsasz finally sees a barefoot Freeze in a Primus ‘Pork Soda’ t-shirt. The hitman tilts his head and grins.

“Primus sucks!”

Freeze responds with a soft snort and a modest grin. 

“Right?”

Zsasz hands the man his food, fully prepared to leave but, to his surprise, the man nods him in. Victor idly looks around the other Victor's modest quarters in the freezer. On Fries' desk are his notes and calculations, a small laboratory and various scientific instruments. He also has a bed and a bookcase. 

The cryonics expert immediately opens the food container. Zsasz studies him with great interest, finally getting a proper look at Fries’ without his cryosuit. Not only can Victor really see the man’s physique, but he can study how he moves and the effect he has on his environment. Fries grabs the calzone, instantly freezing it and takes a bite as he seats himself. He nods the hitman to the bed and apologizes while he chews.

“Sorry. Don’t usually get company.”

Zsasz shrugs.  
  
“That’s okay. Me and The Girls really don’t either.”

“Think Moretti’ll still be alive by the time you get back?”

The hitman grins. 

“Hard to say. But if he is, he’ll _ definitely _wish he wasn’t.”

Fries nods and continues chewing while Zsasz’s eyes drift outside the freezer. 

“Man, if I wasn’t workin’ for Penguin? I’d _ love _Pike on my team.”

The other man coolly replies.

“She’s alright I guess.”

Zsasz pulls down the corners of his mouth.

“Pepper too.” He squints a bit. “But I dunno if she’d get along that great with The Girls. She seems.... I dunno. A lot _ younger _ than what I normally recruit.” He tilts his head. “What’s her deal?”

Freeze casually nods, and explains between bites.

“She _ is _ young. She doesn’t look it, but she’s a kid. Like a _ kid _kid. I think she’s barely a teenager.” The scientist looks up at the puzzled man’s face and clarifies. “She was rapidly aged by one of Strange’s...” Fries thinks back on what the man did to him. “‘_Experiments_’.”

Zsasz carefully studies Freeze’s subtle shift in mood, mulling over the man’s words. “Well that explains a lot.” The hitman watches the Fries take another absent bite. “She uh… doesn’t think you like her.” Victor usually minds his own business, but he’s curious. He crinkles a brow. “That true?”

Fries’ eyes drift downward for a long moment before looking up at Zsasz. He nods at the man.

“Answer something for me first.”

Victor leans back.  
  
“Hit me.”  
  
“What’s the deal with you and Penguin?”

The gunman squints.

“What d’ya mean?”

Fries slowly blinks and shakes his head.

“You guys a thing or what?”

Zsasz puffs out a long snort and rubs the back of his neck. 

“No.”

Freeze narrows his eyes.

“Did ya _ used _to be?

The hitman shifts on the modest twin bed. “We…” Zsasz slowly rubs his lips and shrugs. “Sorta. But it was real casual. And _ way _ back before he became Mayor. But he’s Boss again so…” The hitman pops off a two-toned whistle and shrugs. 

Freeze nods and grows quiet for a long moment. His eyes don’t exactly meet the gunman’s.

“I don’t…” He shakes his head. “_Hate _ Pepper. It’s just…” His brow knits. “Sometimes… when she gets excited about things…?” He briefly meets the other Victor’s gaze before looking away again. “She uh… reminds me of Nora. My wife. When she was younger. When we first met.” 

Zsasz watches in astonishment when the reticent man’s gaze and voice grow distant, _wistful_. 

“Pepper asked me to help her plant a tree once. She was really excited about it. I didn’t know what it was because it had no leaves. Then Ivy... she touched it and... made it bloom.” Freeze blinks and vacantly shakes his head. “It was... an apple blossom.” He puffs out a mirthless snort. “Nora loved them.” He sadly smiles. “We picnicked beneath them in Gotham Central Park. Before she got sick.” 

Fries looks up into the Zsasz’s dark and surprisingly thoughtful eyes. 

“Before Nora died, I tried developing a formula that could freeze her without killing her. I thought, if the day came she could be cured...” Freeze’s voice trails off And eyes slowly drift downward when he remembers Nora switching the formulas to end her life rather than be frozen in hopes of saving it. “But she died before I could. I used rapidly cooled helium on myself because I couldn’t…” Fries slowly blinks.

_Live without her._

The man grits his teeth.

“But Strange brought me back.”

He looks to the freezer floor and swallows. 

“It’s how I got like _ this_.”

Zsasz presses his lips together. He somberly nods and swallows.

“My uh... my _parents_ died. Boating accident. We were a real close family. Ya know Z Industries?” Zsasz puffs out a sardonic chuckle at Fries’ subtle nod. “My dad. His shareholders didn’t think it was an accident. They thought I was responsible. That I did it for the money. They didn’t come right out and accuse me but…” Victor clenches his teeth and swallows. “They didn’t have to, ya know?”

Zsasz briefly looks up and meets Fries’ inscrutable gaze.

“I was with ‘em when it happened. Almost drowned trying to save ‘em.” Victor absently shakes his head. “Didn’t do so great after. Gambled. A lot.” He briefly glances up at the other Victor and crinkles his brow. “I uh... gotta problem stopping myself when I get _on _something.” The hitman squints and slowly rubs a hand across his face. “I uh... tried to end it after losing everything but…” 

He puffs out a mirthless snort and his eyes drift off. 

“A guy tried mugging me _ right _ when I was about to jump off the bridge.” Victor slowly clucks a sardonic chuckle. “I had nothing. _Literally_ nothing. I lost _everything_ gambling. Guy had a knife.”

Zsasz unbuttons the cuff of his sleeve and points to a light, keloidal scar on his forearm, reverently fingering it.

“He was my first.”

After a long silence, the gunman blinks and softly shakes his head. He smooths down his cuff and slides down the sleeve of his jacket before rising. Zsasz casually walks over to Freeze and pats him once on the shoulder before heading to the freezer door. Just before exiting, Zsasz stops for a moment, looking no place in particular.

“Sometimes? Penguin reminds me of my mom. She was proud. And tough. _ Very _ tough. But _elegant_.” Victor’s brow crinkles, his smile sad. “Kinda like a cat. No one was better at reading people. It’s like she could see right through you. And her eyes. They were pale.” 

Zsasz finally remembers himself and looks back into the Fries’ ice blue eyes. He clears his throat. 

“Say, man. Thanks for today. I uh... “ He nods outside. “Gotta go get Penguin at the club.”

Freeze thoughtfully rubs his chin and responds with a nod. 

“Yeah. See ya tomorrow.”

—

Later that night, Zsasz returns with Penguin from the Iceberg Lounge. He exits the car and glances up at the full moon looming high in the sky. He assists Penguin out of his Imperial and walks him inside the mansion. Once Victor hears the click of the Boss' upstairs bedroom door, he heads for the kitchen to see if Olga has any goodies in the cake stand. He grins at the sight of her lavender lemon bars on the island and grabs himself one. 

Victor leans against the island and smiles. After taking a big, delicious bite, he looks out the window.

Outside, alone in the garden, Freeze gazes up at the apple blossom tree softly swaying above him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve always wanted to write a scene with The Victors talking about who they were _’before’_. Zsasz’s admission about his parents’ demise and his mother is a nod to A_Cautionary_Tale’s take on Z’s origin story mixed in with a little comic origin story. I got the idea to write Fries’ remembrance of his late wife, Nora, when I randomly heard Esperanza Spalding’s “Apple Blossom.”
> 
> Spalding’s a monster talent for those of you who are unfamiliar with her. She sings like an angel and plays bass like a demon. I first heard “Apple Blossom” on her Chamber Music Society album (that she recorded at the ripe old age of 24). It doesn’t feature her phenomenal bass playing but I think her duet with Milton Nascimiento is lovely. His unusual voice, inflection and range gives it a really interesting texture. If you haven’t heard the album, her opening track, “Little Fly” (whose lyrics are taken from the poet/painter, William Blake) is just… GAH! 
> 
> Speaking of amazing bassists, I had to put Freeze in a Primus t-shirt ‘cause they’re a fantastic band but, uh... *looks up thoughtfully* they’re definitely not for everyone. Don’t check ‘em out if you like “serious” music/subjects or offend easily. Their lead singer, Les Claypool is one of the greatest bassists I’ve ever heard (and nobody knows him! *angily shakes fist*). For any other Primus fans out there: PRIMUS SUCKS! :3 
> 
> The Smashing Pumpkins’ “Ave Adore”? Well, it’s a great song and a certain somebody (you know who you are and I love you) pointed out how much Billy Corgan looks like Victor Zsasz in the song’s video (*giggles ‘cause she can’t stop picturing Noferatu!Zsasz with Penguin in 2x01 in Loeb’s house).
> 
> Last but not least, in the _wild_ event Tumblr’s crazy-talented Shirl85 happens to read this, I hope you like this cupcake. I had you and Filthycasual in mind when I wrote it. *muah*muah*muah*


	4. Something Nice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zsasz hangs out with Pike and Pepper. The women suggest a tactic he hopes might prompt Penguin to warm up to him.

**卌**

Victor shuffles around the Van Dahl estate after Olga shoos him out of the kitchen so that she can prepare lunch in peace without him eating half her ingredients. He walks by Ivy’s open door and can hear her talking with Bridgit. Pepper’s painting her nails as Pike watches on. He narrows his eyes at Ivy and bluntly remarks with disbelief.

“Seriously?”

Her eyes grow wide.

“What?”

Zsasz strides over and lifts the hand with a freshly-painted thumbnail and index finger, frowning down at them. He blinks and scoffs with astonishment.

“Uh, _ hello_. You still have your old polish underneath—and your cuticles are a _ mess_.” 

He briskly removes his gloves and stuffs them in a pocket, stiffly nodding towards her nail polish remover and cotton rounds.

“Gimme that. _ Not _ the rounds. The remover.”

He scrunches up his mouth for a moment.

“You gotta spare stocking or nylon footie you don’t care about?”

After Ivy warily nods, he curtly responds.

“_Find it. _ I’ll be right back.”

Just before striding out of her room, Victor stops and turns around. He briefly looks up at the ceiling before pointing back at her.

“You gotta manicure set, right? Gimme that too.”

The women exchange glances.

—

Victor removes Ivy’s nail polish (using the nylon’s abrasiveness to get through several old coats of paint). He soaks her hands and cleans up her cuticles. After grabbing the nail clippers, emery board and file, he stops for a moment and looks up at her, squinting. His tone is dead serious.

“How do ya want me to shape ‘em?”

Ivy blinks.

“What do you mean?”

He screws up his face.

“_You_ know. Square? Oval? Stiletto… round?” He shrugs. “_Squoval?_”

She looks to Pike, who shrugs in response. Ivy turns back to him, her voice uncertain.

“Uh… whatever you think.”

He scrunches his mouth to one side and considers her nails for a moment.

“Mmm… you know what ya wanna wear auction night yet?”

When Pepper shakes her head, Victor tilts his head and squints with concentration before pointing back at her with the manicure tools.

“Then I say go squoval for now. It’s a real versatile look.” Victor swivels his head back and forth. “That way, depending on what kinda outfit you wear, ya still got some options.”

After cutting, shaping and filing her nails, he exfoliates her hands with an impromptu scrub he throws together with some cooking oil and sugar. He also moisturizes them and removes the excess oil from her nail beds with alcohol.

He lowers the corners of his mouth and meticulously studies his work, finally nodding with confidence before returning her gaze.

“_Now_ you can paint your nails.”

Ivy sheepishly bites her lower lip. 

“Uh, Victor? Would you mind?” She scrunches her nose. “_Painting _ them for me too?”

—

Later that afternoon, Victor heads out with the women to shop for their club clothes. Ivy occasionally grins at the leaves he painted on her nails. 

Even Bridgit, who unsuccessfully tried convincing him that wasn’t “her”, admires hers—surprised at how great they look filed, shaped and buffed. She even warmed up to him after noticing how he never once hesitated, commented or stared at the vestiges of her extensive burns. Bridgit shakes her head and puffs out with mild amusement.

“Seriously, Zsasz. _ How _ do you know so much about this stuff?

He dismissively shrugs.

“I do it for The Girls all the time—_especially _ the twins. Xoc’s not much of a nail queen though. We both like a simple trim and buff—like I did for you. She _ does _ like her toenails done though.”

Pike blinks with disbelief.

“Are you telling me you you do _ pedicures _ too?”

“Uh-huh. Hey, so uh… you gotta a boutique in mind or somethin’’?”

Ivy shakes her head with mild self-consciousness. Undeterred, he continues his line of questioning. 

“Well, what kinda look are you goin’ for?”

“What do you mean?”

“You want somethin’ classic or sexy? Fun or functional? Leather? A cocktail dress? Short? Long?” He shrugs and expounds, tone matter-of-fact. “Gimme somethin‘ to work with.”

He smirks and slowly shakes his head with a twinkle in his eye.

“I mean, Penguin _ is _ springin’ for it.”

—

Most of their time is spent watching Ivy gravitate toward everything green (that is, when she’s not cooing at and tending to the rare glimpses of plant life in the various retail spaces they visit). It doesn’t lake long for Victor to figure out it’s just easier to locate, retrieve and present her with all the green selections. 

Bridgit even helps in an effort to speed along the process, never bothering to seek out anything for herself. As the duo searches the racks for stuff in Ivy’s signature color, Victor arches a brow over at Pike.

“You gonna look for anything?”

The woman shakes her head. 

“This isn’t really my thing. It’s Ivy’s—and I don’t _ do _ dresses.”

Victor pulls down the corners of his mouth and shrugs.

“Who says you have to? You could getta jumpsuit, a suit—even a tux.” He thinks for a bit. “Mmm… but that’ll take time we don’t have.” 

He snaps his fingers after regarding her flame-resistant body suit for a brief moment. 

“Or you could do a catsuit.” 

Bridgit thinks for a bit, touching the hood of her bodysuit and looking down at the rest of her clothes for a long moment before dismissively shrugging and shaking her head. 

“I don’t think I should have to get anything.”

Zsasz nods in response. 

“You’re right. You shouldn’t—not if you don’t wanna. I mean, Penguin wouldn’t ask Freeze to. That reminds me. Do you _ need _ your suit? You know, like Freeze?”

“No. Might be better though.”

“How come?”

“Remember my hands?”

He nods.

“Yeah.”

She pulls back her hood and points out the extensive burns and evidence of where her old suit melted into her thanks to Jim Gordon and the GCPD.

“‘Cause of this. It’s how I wound up in Indian Hill.”

She briefly goes silent thinking back on Strange’s tests and brainwashing before her eyes suddenly light up and her face goes wicked.

“But hey. At least I’m fireproof.”

Zsasz puffs out an idle chuckle.

“True. But seriously, what’s the problem?”

She looks at him with disbelief.

“You know how people are—and how _ Penguin _ is. I’m not givin’ him any reason be a snob about how I’m dressed or how it doesn’t work with his _ ‘aesthetic’ _or something.” Her tone grows mocking. “I wouldn’t wanna kill his ‘urbane and edgy’ vibe or anything.”

Zsasz slowly nods and raises his brow, causing the wrinkles in his forehead to show.

“Okay. But seriously. You wanna look for somethin’ or not?”

She presses her lips together and thinks for a moment. Just as she’s about to turn him down, she looks up to find him regarding a black, long-sleeved jumpsuit. It has a semi-transparent yoke and sleeves with elaborate embroidery. The mesh bodice is intricately decorated with crimson and gold beads akin to flames with black sequins.

“Hey, Pike. Roll up your sleeve for a sec.”

She skeptically obliges the man. He strides over to her and lays the elaborately embroidered lace sleeve over her arm. To her surprise, her extensive burns are virtually impossible to see beneath the busy pattern. She looks up and find him waiting with an arched brow and the corners of his mouth pulled down. He wiggles the hanger at her.

“Wanna take it for a spin?”

—

All in all, their shopping venture is a success. Ivy picks out a stylish, emerald green dress. It’s a silk, knee-length, off-the-shoulder number with a portrait neckline and a v-back—but her shoes. They’re emerald Dolce and Gabbana Belluci pumps with taormina lace and Swarovski crystal clusters on the toe.

Bridgit surprises herself by agreeing to the jumpsuit Victor selected and a pair of Alexander Wang Eri studded silk booties with front and back zip closures. Victor even purchases himself a pair of Lyndon boots with a metal-trimmed cap toe by the same designer. He was seriously tempted by splurging on some Givency leather and suede aviator lace-ups for auction night but he’d be damned if he was going to mess up something that nice if he had to do any wet work.

Zsasz heads to his Chrysler with their shopping bags when Ivy suddenly turns to him.

“Victor? Um… what do you think about grabbing some coffee or something?”

He enthusiastically nods in agreement and points ahead.

“Yeah, there’s a great place a few blocks down—.”

Bridgit makes a face and interrupts him, shaking her head.

“No, Victor. Ivy wants to go see her girlfrie—.”

The redhead elbows Bridgit mid-sentence and shyly smiles.

“I was kinda thinking of someplace else.”

—

The trio walks up to the coffee shop. As Victor opens the door for his cohorts, Ivy thoroughly scans the establishment and locates her favorite barista working the register. She’s a cute, fresh-faced thing with glasses and a dark blonde pixie cut. The young blonde greets them the moment she hears the door open.

“Hey, guys. Welcome to the Smiling Bean.”

Pike snarks at Pepper.

“Look, Ivy. Your girlfriend’s here.”

Just as Victor’s about to return her greeting, Pepper pushes him into the store and sneaks in behind him. He shoots Ivy a confused look over a shoulder as he absently makes his way to the counter. He turns back to the blonde with a wide eyes and a puzzled face.

“Hi.”

He scrunches his nose at the chalkboard menu and hones in on the tea selection, pointing at it. He tilts his head and narrows his gaze.

“Your teas. Are they loose leaf?”

“Yes, sir.”

His shoulders slump in relief. He rubs his lips as he pulls out his money clip.

“Great. Mmm… How ‘bout some Assam and—no, wait. I’ll take the Lapsang Souchong and…” He checks out the pastry case. “A blueberry muffin, a chocolate croissant and… is that a toffee scone?”

The blonde nods, smiling.

“It is.”

“I’ll take one of those too. Oh—and that strawberry Napoleon.”

He nods toward Pepper and Pike as he pulls out a Benjamin and slides it across the counter. 

“And whatever they want.”

The barista turns to the women and answers before they can. She starts with Bridgit.

“An extra, _ extra _ hot chili mocha with _ lots _ of chili.” 

The blonde smiles at Pepper as she pulls Victor’s pastries from the case.

“And a vanilla latte with almond milk.”

The spectacled girl blushes at the redhead.

“Did you want a vegan brownie today, Ivy?”

Pepper briefly glances down, tucks her hair behind her ear and smiles, working hard to hide her flushed face.

“Sure.”

Bridgit rolls her eyes.

The blonde turns to Pike.

“Would you like a pastry today, Bridgit?”

Pike glances at Ivy before wryly replying from the side of her mouth.

“No, thanks. I think I’ve _had enough_ sweets already.”

After the girl returns with all the pastries, she opens the cash register to get Victor’s change. While Zsasz waits, he elbows Ivy.

“Your girlfriend’s cute, Pepp.”

Ivy’s face goes pale. The barista’s eyes widen in surprise and she raises a hand to her mouth. Bridgit snickers when Ivy quickly shakes her head and corrects him. The redhead’s eyes are wide with embarrassment.

“N-n-no, Victor. Sh-she’s not my girlfriend.”

He makes a confused face and points a thumb back at Bridgit.

“But didn’t Pike just say she was—?”

Ivy tries to stop him. 

“No, Victor. I don’t think she did.”

The barista hands Victor his change. Just as he starts to say something, Ivy cuts him off.

“How ‘bout you go find a table for us, Zsasz?”

Victor responds by scrunching his face in befuddlement and nodding. He scoops up the loose change and drops it (along with a twenty) in the tip jar before shoving half the blueberry muffin in his mouth and holding it between his teeth. He arranges his remaining pastries on one plate and heads off to find them a table.

—

After finishing their drinks and pastries (while Ivy takes any and every opportunity to look at the blonde), the three head to a novelty shop. Victor browses through the t-shirts with the women. He occasionally holds up a t-shirt or tank top for their consideration. Pike isn't big on the one with the cute, fiery devil holding a trident or the ‘Hottie!’ one surrounded by flames. She does, however, tilt her head at the chili pepper one that says ‘caliente’ before waving it off.

Undeterred, he keeps looking and holds up two more for her. One has a bottle of Tabasco with a ‘hot stuff’ label and another with a bottle of Sriracha that says ‘I’m good on everything.’ This time, Pike gives them a good look and a “maybe” before turning back to Ivy and huffing at her.

“Ivy. You had a _ perfectly _ good opportunity to talk to her earlier and you _ didn’t_. I swear, if you don’t tell her, I _ will.”_

“Well I _ can’t _ now! I’m _ so _ embarrassed!”

Zsasz sets aside a couple of shirts for Pepper. One says, “I’m plant powered” and another has a smiling tree with a heart on it that says, “Hug me.” When he finds a black one that says, “MAY THE FOREST BE WITH YOU” in light green block letters, he chuckles to himself. The moment Ivy hears him, she groans.

“She _ totally _ heard Victor call her my _ girlfriend!_” 

He tries defending himself.

“But Pike said she was.”

Ivy rolls her eyes and huffs.

“She was _ teasing me!_”

“Oh.”

He arches a brow, pulls down the corners of his mouth and holds up another shirt that says, ‘Best tree hugger ever.’

Ivy actually looks at that one for a minute. She chews her bottom lip and looks up at him.

“What would _ you _ do, Victor?”

“I’d get the ‘may the forest be with you’ one.” He shrugs and holds up a cute tank and wiggles it at her. “Or maybe this ‘a paper cut is a tree’s last revenge’ one.”

“Not about _ that!”_

“About _ ‘what’ _ then?”

She splays her hands out with exasperation and huffs.

“If you _ got embarrassed _ like me!”

He scrunches up his face and idly shrugs.

“I don’t really get embarrassed.”

Pepper groans.

“Okay. Fine. But uh… what would you do if you really liked someone and you wanna…”

Pike interrupts Ivy before she can finish.

“Be their girlfriend?”

Pepper shoves her before turning back to him.

“And you wanna…” She sighs with besetment. “_Talk _ to them.”

He tilts his head, slowly squinting and briefly wondering to himself.

_ Is this a trick question? _

Victor’s response sounds more like a question. He wrinkles his nose and looks side to side with uncertainty before hesitantly answering.

“Uh… I just _ talk _to ‘em. I tell ‘em I like ‘em and ask if they wanna go out or somethin’.” He shrugs. “Or just have sex.”

Ivy cringes at the mention of sex but takes a moment to imagine what Victor might look like hitting on someone. 

“Does that actually work?”

“Not _ every _ time, but lotsa times.”

Pike raises a hand towards the man with frustration and scoffs.

“_See, Ivy? _ That’s _ exactly _ what I told you to do.”

The redhead grows anxious.

“I dunno. What if she says _ ‘no’?_ Maybe I should get her a gift or something—or maybe just write her a note.”

Victor makes a face. 

“What for?”

“To tell her I like her… without actually _ saying _ it.”

“Why wouldn’t you wanna _ say _it? How is she supposed to—?”

“Because I’m _ embarrassed,_ Victor! Just because _ you _ don’t get embarrassed, doesn’t mean other people don’t!”

Pike interrupts. 

“_Believe _ me, Ivy! She _ knows _ you like her. She likes you too! She _ always _ smiles at you and calls you by name. She makes a point to talk to you _ every _ time she sees you. Just _ tell _ her.”

“But that’s her _ job_. I dunno. Maybe I should get her a little gift? Or maybe I could do something nice for her.”

Victor scrunches his face and tilts his head.

“Wait. Does _ that _ actually work? A present or something nice?”

Ivy nods.

“Well, everyone likes a gifts, Victor. Don’t you?”

He scrunches up his face and looks up, considering her question for a bit—_finally _ nodding the moment he makes the connection. 

“Oh yeah. Guess I _ do.”_

Victor thinks back on his unsuccessful attempts to woo Penguin and his features slowly morph into a lopsided smile. He arches a brow and bites his lower lip, nodding slowly.

_ Maybe _ ** _he_ ** _ does too. _

—

On their way back to Van Dahl estate, Zsasz makes another stop. Before exiting his Imperial, he carefully places the Venus flytrap Pepper bought him at the novelty shop on his dashboard and stores his new pack of playing cards, kendama and multi-color yo-yo in his glove compartment. Pike and Pepper follow him into a trendy, upscale chocolatier and watch him decisively stride over to the display shelf. Victor grabs a big sampler box and some dark chocolate bacon toffee and makes his way to the counter. 

He rubs beneath his lips considering the various selections in the case before finally pointing out the bonbons filled with dark chocolate ganache and infused with Japanese lime. They’re hand painted black with lovely swipes of lime green and dashes of yellow.

“How ‘bout those Yuzus?” He looks back up at the woman behind the counter and chews his lower lip. “A box of fifteen.” Victor casually nods at Pike and Pepper. “And whatever they want.”

Pike arches a brow at the man before looking back at the woman.

“Umm… how ‘bout six of those mango habanero ones?”

While Ivy asks if they have any vegan selections, Bridgit tilts her head at the man’s selections. 

“Are those… a _ gift _for someone?”

“Me and The Girls like ‘em. And Freeze likes bacon."

She narrows her eyes and nods towards the bonbons. 

“What about _ those?”_

Victor casually shrugs.

“Wanna see if the whole gift thing actually works.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. This… uh… this… “fluff” *cringes* is another freak story I’ve wanted to write about for awhile but never gotta ‘round to. I really like the thought of Zsasz hanging out with Pike and Pepper. I totally imagined him being surprisingly decent at sh!t like nails and hair because I headcanon him living with The Girls. And the chocolate? Well... *shrugs* Let’s just say your humble author is terribly sentimental.
> 
> Thanks for the read, y’all.


	5. Tokens of Affection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zsasz makes the best out of a frustrating situation when someone absconds off with frozen!Ed.

**卌**

After returning to with mansion with Pike and Pepper, he checks in with The Boss and returns with his receipts. Penguin glances at them and suddenly stops when he looks at the price. 

“Did Ivy buy an Elie Saab?”

Victor shakes his head.

“Nope.”

“Victor, it says right here that…”

“No, Boss. Pike did.”

Penguin blinks in stunned amazement.

“You’re kidding me.”

“Nuh-uh. It’s nice too.” Zsasz points a thumb over a shoulder. “Wanna see it?”

Penguin shakes his head and waves the man off. 

“No, Victor. That won’t be necessary. I’m just… surprised. _ Pleasantly _ surprised, but _ surprised_.”

“You uh… need anything else tonight?”

Penguin takes a sip from his crystal tumbler and shakes his head. 

“No, Victor. That will be all. Thank you.”

Zsasz nods. 

“Okie dokie.”

Just as Victor heads for the door, he remembers the bonbons. He nods for a moment and approaches the kingpin’s desk. He sets down the bag and slides it over. 

“I uh… got you somethin’ when we were out.”

Oswald raises a hand to his mouth the moment he recognizes the chocolatier’s logo on the bag. He tries tempering his delight when he reaches inside and slides the sleeve off the box. Inside, he finds beautiful bonbons nestled in their voids. Penguin looks up and beams, eyes fluttering. 

“Thank you, Victor.”

The hitman arches a brow and shrugs.

“Don’t mention it.”

—

A couple of days later, during a call with his bubbe, Zsasz learns he can make the bone meal he told Ivy about. Neither Olga nor The Girls allow him to work on his project at the Van Dahl estate or back home so Victor heads someplace he knows won’t be bothered.

He enters the quiet apartment and closes the door behind him with a foot, shaking his head at the empty beer bottles and fast food boxes stacked inside one another at the desk, the coffee table and the kitchen counter. He tsks.

“_Seriously,_ Jim?”

Zsasz sets down the bones he procured wrapped in white butcher paper. He pokes around the kitchen, finding little in the way of utensils: a couple of dusty skillets, spoons and spatulas, along with some plastic takeout containers. A quick peek in Jim’s cabinets and drawers yields a bottle opener, an almost complete flatware set, some dishes and a few glass tumblers. 

The hitman frowns at the scant inventory but his eyes light up when he rummages through the lower cabinets. Inside, he finds a few dusty boxes that contain a couple of nice cookie sheets, a cookware set and a really nice blender—all ‘from Mom’. They’re still all gift-wrapped, having only a portion of wrapping paper torn from them.

“Aww. _ Thanks, _ Mrs. Gordon.”

Victor removes his holster, gloves and jacket and places them on a barstool so he can get to work. He cleans (mostly dusts) the stove and kitchen counter, removes the cookware from their boxes and washes them before boiling the bones. As they simmer, he strides to study a photo of Jim when he was still in the army, almost tripping over some of the man’s discarded clothes on the floor.

“What would your CO think? My _kill room_ is cleaner than this.”

Zsasz tries to make himself comfortable but the state of his surroundings aren’t very conducive for that. He shrugs, heads to the fridge in search of a snack only to find long-spoiled takeout and curdled milk. He huffs with annoyance.

”Damnit, Jim.”

Zsasz shrugs and promptly begins discarding the rotten food out of Jim’s refrigerator and wiping it down. He discards stacked takeout boxes around the apartment and collects empties for recycle (along with boxes from the detective’s commandeered cookware) before returning to the boiled bones. Zsasz cleans and sets them on the cookie sheets to bake. Given their size and volume, it’s going to be awhile.

Victor shrugs and heads for Jim’s discarded clothes on the floor to return them to detective’s bedroom only blink in astonishment at even _more_ clothes and a dry cleaning pile. 

—

Sometime later, Victor returns to Jim’s apartment with _his own_ takeout and _ actual _groceries. He can tell by the smell, the bones are almost ready. He strides over to the fridge and stocks it with a few odds and ends he grabbed from a local green grocer and his favorite kosher deli. He removes the bones from the oven and waits for them to cool. Zsasz finally takes a much-needed break. He wolfs down his takeout of vegetable pakora, chicken tikka masala, jeera saag and aloo baingan, mopping it up with some garlic naan. 

“Boogie time.”

Victor runs out to his Imperial to grab a baseball bat and one of the heavy duty hoods he uses on his hostages. He transfers the bones into the bag—using the bat (stained red at the barrel with blood) to fragment the bones since Jim doesn’t have a rolling pin. Just as he sets to crush the bones, Zsasz frowns at a piece of cranial bone and matted hair lodged in the wood’s grain and huffs with annoyance that he can’t use it in the bonemeal without baking it. He shrugs and drops it in the garbage disposal before transferring the bones into the blender. The Vitamix is perfect for pulverizing them to dust. Victor removes the bone meal and transfers it into one of Jim’s plastic to-go containers.

“Waste not. Want not.”

Victor washes and returns all the cookware, but leaves the blender on the counter, grinning with smug self-satisfaction. He takes care to lock the door behind him and whistles on the way back to his Imperial with the bone meal, twirling his keys around a finger with a bounce in his step.

—>j<—

Several hours later, Detective Jim Gordon returns home and tosses his badge on the counter. His gait slows after a few steps with the smell of freshly prepared food, curry and dish detergent. He immediately sets down his Gotham Grille takeout and unholsters his service pistol. He warily takes a look around his tidied apartment. Jim slowly makes his way to his bedroom with his gun pointing ahead. His lips part in surprise at his dry-cleaned suits and laundered clothes in a bag on his bed.

"What the...?"

After confirming the intruder's gone, he returns to the kitchen. He blinks at the fresh fruit on the counter and the blender his mother gave him. Jim heads for the refrigerator and looks inside, gaping with wonderment at the groceries and Indian takeout. He opens the first package and finds, to his astonishment, chicken tikka masala and garlic naan. 

He pulls out the takeout and places it in the microwave. While he waits for it to heat up, he makes a call and smiles at delighted woman's voice on the phone.

"Jim?"

"Hi, mom."

**卌**

Penguin’s in a pretty good mood the next day, at least until Victor informs him there was an attempt made on his auction items. After proving none of the black market items are missing, Zsasz returns to the Iceberg Lounge with The Boss—only to discover that Nygma_ is _ missing. Predictably, the kingpin loses it all over again in grand style. 

“NOOO!!!!_ This cannot be happening! _”

Victor shrugs.

“I dunno. Kinda… opens up the room.”

Penguin immediately charges I’m with finding Edward.

“Whoever did this. I want them found. I want them dead. _ And I want Ed back here, today!_” 

Victor looks tirelessly for Nygma—not that he wouldn’t have already. However, the thought that Oswald might be willing to express his “gratitude” the way he once did spurs Zsasz to work that much harder and with a greater sense of urgency. Unfortunately, however, he only manages to locate Edward’s liberator, Myrtle Jenkins. 

Penguin considers the woman before him.

“A lot of people have been trying to steal from me lately. An example needs to be made.” The kingpin turns to him and smiles. “Have fun, Victor.”

Victor beams, pleased that Oswald’s happy with his find and the fact he gets to carve another confirmed kill into his flesh but it niggles at him that Nygma’s still on the lam. Penguin smiles up at him after he does Jenkins.

“_Thank _ you, Victor. Please keep me apprised of your progress. In the meantime, I’m returning to the club to oversee the installation of our new surveillance cameras. Fries is with the technicians now. This will _ not _ happen again!”

Victor heads out again but he has no luck tracking down any leads. He returns to the club, his gait slower and less confident than usual. He rubs the back of his neck, disappointed with himself for coming up short.

Freeze is busily running diagnostics on the cooling system for Nygma’s former prison. The iceman glances over his shoulder at the sound of approaching footsteps.

Zsasz narrows his eyes and tilts his head, nodding at the cooling system.

“They mess up anything?”

Freeze dismissively shakes his head.

“Nah. It’s still in good shape. Just ensuring the camera techs and whoever sprang Nygma didn’t affect the wiring so it’d be ready when you brought him back.”

Freeze notices how Zsasz cuts his eyes to the side and puffs out with disappointment. The cryonics expert leans to one side.

“No luck?”

Zsasz’s shoulders slump with disappointment and he shakes his head.

Freeze replies.

“No way he’s gotten that far. He’ll show up.” Freeze briefly looks up at the cameras and shakes his head with annoyance. He puffs out an embittered sigh. “Lemme show you where everything is.”

Zsasz narrows his gaze at Freeze.

“What’s the matter?”

Freeze rolls his eyes.

“Penguin’s even thinking about installing microphones.”

—

Later that night, Zsasz heads out again and actually manages to track down a few leads that point him to The Narrows. By the time he gets there, Victor’s a little frustrated and _ very _hungry. He stops by a dive with surprisingly decent food. 

The moment he steps inside The End of the Line, he grins wide at the sight of a tall, lanky dark-haired man in a Kelly green jacket sitting at the bar. A steady stream of people occasionally speak to him and leave him to his drink. 

Zsasz immediately strides over behind the guy, unholsters his Sig and shoves the nozzle against the back of the man’s head, cocking the hammer.

Nearby patrons immediately scatter.

“Playtime’s over, Riddles. The Boss wants you back.”

The man raises his hands in surrender.

“Don’t kill me. I-I-I’m not…”

Victor growls and forces the gun harder.

“I’m not here to _talk,_ Nygma. I’m here to bring you _ back_. Penguin’s real mad.” 

The tall, lanky brunette nods and finally acquiesces. He slowly rises from his barstool and turns to face Victor with his hands raised high. Only after he’s face-to-face with the assassin does his face morph into its regular appearance.

Victor’s shoulders slump and his jaw grows slack. He puffs with disappointment.

_ “Seriously, _ Clayface?_” _

The man scrunches his face and raises his shoulders with embarrassment. He tries explaining himself.

“It gets me free margaritas and appletinis.”

—

Victor doesn’t care if he doesn’t have his mark. To think he was so close—only to discover he was _ so far _ off target. He needs to blow off a little steam.

Not long after, Zsasz hoists the man out of his Imperial and readies his Sig on him, nodding towards the club. Wide-eyed, Clayface nods and reluctantly walks forward, all the while glancing back at Penguin’s henchman. Once inside the Iceberg Lounge, Zsasz makes a point of looking up at one of the new security cameras and waves while addressing Clayface—knowing full well Penguin is holed up in his second smaller office (where his security monitors are). 

“Look up there and do the Nygma face.”

“But—.”

Zsasz releases the safety on his Sig and shoves it against the man’s head. 

“Not exactly in the position to negotiate, are you?”

Clayface’s shoulders slump in defeat. He takes a deep breath, looks the the camera and transforms his face to Nygma’s. Victor responds with an arched brow and a slow grin.

“_That’s _ more like it.”

—>o<—

Penguin’s sitting in his office when the motion detector alerts him to activity in the club. He immediately turns to the screens and perks up at what appears to be Victor holding a captive at gunpoint. He zeroes in on the suit that’s cut similarly to Edward’s and gasps with excitement.

Oswald studies the screen, soon tilting his head and scrunching his eyes. Something seems… _ off_. After squinting a little, he notices the man’s face isn’t Edward’s. The moment his shoulders slump with disappointment, he takes another look. Before his eyes, the face of Victor’s captive looks up at the security camera and transforms to Edward’s. 

Penguin watches Victor nudge his gun against the man’s head. Clayface reaches into his jacket pocket to don a pair of glasses and approach a table. Penguin shrieks at the screen.

_ “What the…?! Oh, _ ** _hell _ ** _ no!” _

Oswald pushes back against the desk in preparation to race into the club to stop whatever theatrics Zsasz has in mind. He’d be damned if Victor’s going to splatter skull fragments and brain matter in his club before it opens. Penguin’s jaw is clenched and his chest heaves with frustration. Just as the kingpin’s about to rise, the captive’s jaw clinches with resignation and his pants fall to his ankles in a heap. Oswald’s eyes widen when Victor holsters his GSR, removes and pockets his gloves. 

His impudent henchman takes a long look at the camera before stretching a slow, sly grin. Zsasz reaches inside his jacket and pulls out a small square to store in his mouth. He winks and unfastens his trousers.

Penguin raises a hand to his open mouth and slowly returns to his seat, furiously trying to remember how Fries taught him how to operate the zoom feature on the camera. 

Just as he figures it out, he zooms in on Zsasz reaching to pull his captive’s hair. Penguin’s body subtly twitches with the memory of Victor’s fingers tugging his own, eliciting a soft moan. His breathing accelerates with anticipation the moment he sees _ that _ look on Zsasz’s face. 

Oswald bites his lower lip. Just as he considers reaching to unfasten his suit trousers…

Victor pulls the man’s hair off his head.

The hitman blinks in surprise and his rhythm halts for a moment. He scrunches his face and studies the wig with puzzlement. 

After a few moments, Zsasz shrugs and tosses the wig over a shoulder. He grabs the man’s neck and shoulder before commencing to pound away at him.

**卌**

A couple of days later, the _ actual _ Edward Nygma returns to the Iceberg Lounge when Zsasz is out hunting for him. Not only is Victor disappointed he failed to locate and retrieve his quarry, he’s a little annoyed to learn The Boss no longer wants Riddles because he isn’t _ smart _ anymore and, apparently, no longer a threat. 

Zsasz hoped he might score some points with Penguin since (unlike Nygma) _he_ knew what was “red and green and went round and round” but he wasn’t that lucky. Not even his Clayface shenanigans were enough to garner him a second glance. The Boss didn’t even acknowledge it.

One quiet afternoon at the Iceberg Lounge, Zsasz returns from the club stockroom with an open can of pineapple. His ears perk at the sound of hurried footfalls and a familiar, gruff voice.

“Oswald! We gotta talk.”

_ Gordon. _

Zsasz fishes out another pineapple slice, shoves it in his mouth and quietly follows the detective who has now made his way into The Boss’ office. He silently stands just outside the doorway with a tilted head and a wry smile, eating pineapple as he observes the lawman.

Jim’s keyed up enough that it takes a moment for his brain to register he made it all the way into Penguin’s office without being stopped by Zsasz or one of his men. He squints a little and looks around in disbelief before shouting.

“Oswald! Are you here? _ Zsa-asz?_”

Jim waits a few long moments for someone to answer. When no one does, he warily looks around and promptly begins snooping. The detective cautiously walks over to Penguin’s desk when he notices a ledger. He surreptitiously glances up, opens the book and thumbs through it in hopes of finding evidence of illicit activities. Unfortunately, however, Penguin’s books only appear to record legitimate business income and expenditures from the club. 

Jim frowns at the compact, painstaking penmanship and figures that resemble typeface. It’s nothing like the dramatic, showy script he remembers from the personal invitations Oswald’s extended him throughout the years—the handwriting he remembers with more fondness than he cares to admit. 

After turning another page, Jim finally recognizes the man’s handwriting in a corner. He presses his lips together and drags a finger down it as he pictures Oswald strutting around in his finery. When he feels the stirring in his body, he shakes his head, puffs out a frustrated sigh and closes the ledger. Only then does he recognize one of Penguin’s suits hanging up on a coat rack. 

The detective circumspectly saunters over to admire the fine hand-stitching. After glancing around, he fingers a lapel. Jim bites his lower lip, lifts it to his nose and inhales a big sniff. The moment he feels the subtle stirring in his pants and the tug pulling at the corners of his mouth, he hears a familiar drawl.

“Whatcha doin’ there, Jim?”

Jim startles and his eyes grow wide. Gordon slowly turns around to see Victor Zsasz grinning in the doorway, dangling a pineapple slice over his wide open, waiting mouth. 

Jim immediately releases the jacket and clears his throat.

“This isn’t what it looks like.”

Victor arches a brow and tilts his head, slowly parting his lips after chewing and swallowing his pineapple. He offers a measured nod and juts out his jaw toward the suit with a lopsided grin.

“You mean you _ weren’t _ just snoopin’ through the books and sniffin’ Penguin’s suit?”

When Detective Gordon’s ears go hot, Victor’s smile slowly stretches to the other side of his face. The hitman makes a production about taking a slow, dramatic step forward. 

“Should my feelings be hurt?” Victor tilts his head and his smiling lips part. “You never sniff _ my _ clothes, Jim.”

When Jim feels the heat on his face, he subconsciously reaches for the knot in his tie. Victor teases.

“You’re kinda cute when you blush. You should try it more often. You know what they say…” Victor shrugs. “Ya can catch more flies with honey than vinegar.”

Zsasz looks up for a moment and sighs wistfully.

“Mmm…. honey.”

Gordon clears his throat again and nervously shifts from side to side, eyes darting around. The man takes a step forward attempting to make a quick exit.

“I uh…should probably get going if Penguin’s not—.”

Victor places a hand on the detective’s chest to stop him, teasing him with a sing-song voice.

“Ah-ah!” His eyes grow puckish. “C’mon, Jim. What’s your hurry?” 

Zsasz steps in even closer—_so _close, Jim can smell the pineapple on the man’s breath and on his ringed fingers. The gunman lowers his voice to a low, suggestive purr and leans in distractingly close.

“If you ask _ really _ nice, I might try to snag somethin’ else for you. What'cha into besides suits, Jim?” Victor arches a brow. “I dunno... say....” He tilts his head and grins. “_Underwear _ maybe?”

Zsasz’s close proximity and warm breath stop Jim stop dead in his tracks. He’s not sure why he’s hesitating but, inexplicably, he can’t seem to move his limbs. Any other time, he would’ve already countered with a right hook but here he is, struck dumb before the leering gunman’s vulturine smile and a lewd offer that he’s been considering far longer than he should. 

Before Jim realizes it, he’s thinking about Oswald Cobblepot. _ Naked_. He’s already imagining what the man’s underwear must look like. 

_ Boxers probably. Silk. He probably smells like... _

Jim swallows. 

It’s not that the detective hasn’t thought about Oswald naked plenty of times but he’s never been called out on it—_and by Victor Zsasz. _ The surprising sound of Jim’s own groan and involuntary shudder brings him back to himself. It isn’t long before he’s horrified by his body’s conspicuous response. The moment he looks up, he catches Victor peering down at stirring erection with an arched brow and a lecherous smirk. Zsasz looks up to meet his gaze.

“_Like _ the thought of that, huh?”

Jim stands motionless as he feels Zsasz’s ringed slowly dragging down his chest. 

“What d’ya think about…”

Victor trails his fingers further past Jim’s abs and belt.

“Say maybe… _ this?”_

Jim swallows.

_ Oh god. _

Jim groans the moment Victor has him firmly in hand. His brain still can’t believe he isn’t moving but his body remains rooted, _ especially _ after the hitman leans down and takes a slow soft bite of his neck just below his ear. After Victor slowly teases at his neck, his body shudders from the long, hot breath in his ear.

“Ya know, I betcha we could work something out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh... *looks sheepishly side to side*
> 
> I've _always_ wanted to write Zsasz breaking into Jim's apartment and cleaning it, but my collab partner, Filthycasual beat me to it in "Writ Upon Flesh". *kicks rock* Well, I still did it anyway!
> 
> However, Zsasz's video shenanigans came courtesy of a convo I had with Tumblr's lord-garbage. There's no way I could dream up that crazy awesome/naughty/delish idea on my own. But seriously though. If you haven't already seen my lord and liege’s stuff, get yo butt off ao3 now. Get to Tumblr now and check out their blog. (Oh. One thing before you do: make sure your bladder's voided before you do 'cause I swear I've almost peed myself more than once looking at their side-splitting hilarity.)


	6. Dirty Cops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor tries to get to Penguin by way of the GCPD's _finest._

—>o<—

Oswald can’t believe what he’s watching on camera. He wasn’t the least bit shocked by Jim snooping around his office, but watching the man sniff his suit jacket was downright titillating and now, that Victor has the man in his crosshairs?

Penguin softly gasps and raises a hand to his lips when Victor fondles Jim through his trousers and leans into his ear.

He grabs the zoom and turns up the volume on his newly installed microphones, shuddering with the memory of Zsasz's breath in his ear and those well-practiced hands. Just as he grumbles because he can’t hear whatever lewd remarks Victor’s making, he watches the detective slowly step backward until he bumps against his desk. 

Penguin’s tempted to go thunder into the office but he remains glued to his seat, riveted by the spectacle before him. He turns up the sound up as loud as it goes and finally hears Zsasz’s throaty voice.

“Everyone knows Penguin keeps me around is to do the stuff he can’t dirty his hands with. You know. Like _ you_.” 

Penguin’s lips part as he watches Victor unbuckle, unbutton and unzip Jim. His hips and thighs slightly jerk when his enforcer reaches into the detective’s boxers to jerk him off. The moment Jim really begins bucking his hips, Victor spins him around to face the desk. 

“A dirty, _ dirty _ cop.”

Oswald twitches at Jim’s responsive moan when Victor begins grinding himself against the man’s ass.

“Too bad he’s not here to watch.”

Penguin slowly shakes his head as Victor presses his body against Jim’s and winks up at the security camera for his benefit. 

“I bet you’d just _ love _it if he was sittin’ in that chair right now.”

Zsasz grins at Jim’s shudder, taking in the man’s crisp aftershave and the high taper of his short businessman cut. 

“Filthy_,_ _dirty _cop. You like the thought of an audience, Detective Gordon? Of Penguin sittin’ in that chair watchin’ as I do you ‘cause you’re too filthy for him to touch?” 

Victor yanks down Jim’s trousers and boxers before ceremoniously liberating himself from his own. He lifts the back vents of the detective’s suit jacket, shoves up his shirt and spits into his hand, reaching between between the man’s ass cheeks. 

“No sense in wasting good lube on a filthy cop like you.”

Oswald bites his lower lip when Jim’s eyes flutter shut. He watches with rapt attention as Gordon’s jaw goes slack while Victor fingers him. Zsasz hastily grabs a condom from his jacket, holds it between his teeth and watches the camera as he opens the package. 

“Maybe I should wear _ two _ since I’m doin’ _ you_. Speakin’ of dirty cops, is this how _ Bullock _ does you? Does he keep you all to himself or does he pass you around the locker room? It’s always the quiet ones ya know. Wonder what he’d think about me honin’ in on his dirty little fuck toy.”

Jim groans when Zsasz maneuvers himself in place, dragging himself up and down the man’s cleft and teasing him before he sinks inside. He slowly pulls out and slides back in, relishing in the delicious drag before grabbing the blonde by the shoulders and fucking him without ceremony. Only after Jim starts moaning and diligently working himself does Victor start in on him again. 

“So, Jim. You go around sniffin’ Bullock’s clothes behind his back too? You swipe his boxers after those _ long _ stakeouts? What do you two do in the car alone together? I bet you’ve given _ that _ man some really great head. Or is it the other way around? Does _he_ suck _you_ off?”

Jim’s loud groan and shudder announce his burst. Only after Zsasz finishes, does he tease the detective again, arching a brow at the man’s mess. 

“Now you’ve gone and done it. Better clean it up. If anyone knows about the dangers of incriminating evidence, it’s you.”

Zsasz grins as the embarrassed man cleans his mess. Only then does Victor unlatch the distracted man’s badge. After pocketing it, he gets in another dig.

”Wouldn’t want ya leavin’ this place the way you do your apartment now, would we?”

Victor smirks at Jim’s slowly parting lips and widening gaze. 

**卌**

Because word’s out about Pax Penguina, Zsasz rarely has to resort to breaking heads for enforcement. He spends most of his time picking up Penguin’s cut of the action for the bigger players around town. 

Victor grins at the perfectly-manicured index finger dragging down the placket of his shirt until it stops at the v of his crocodile vest. He struggles not to grin when the sienna-colored woman slips her finger between the buttons of his black shirt and teases at his pale flesh. He tilts his head and bites his lower lip. His voice softens and borders just shy of a soft plea.

“C’mon, Portia.” 

Zsasz slowly shakes his head. 

“Don’t make this any harder than it is already.” 

He looks up, squeezes his eyes shut and groans before returning the pulchritudinous woman’s knowing gaze.

“I walked _ right _ into that one, didn’t I?”

The voluptuous brothel owner of The Honey Pot clucks.

“Yeah, ya did, sugar. Besides, as far as _ I’m _ concerned? You _ owe _ me, Victor Zsasz.”

She prowls around the man and brazenly squeezes one of his butt cheeks.

“I gotta mind to put this ass o’ yours to work after luring Sweet Thing away from here! So she can work _for you?_ And _ then _ you got the nerve to come up in here! Takin’ _ my cheddar _for Penguin?!”

When the woman rolls her eyes and hands Zsasz an envelope of cash, he grins.

“_Always _ a pleasure, Portia.”

“Boy, get the hell outta here! You make me sick!”

After Portia swats Victor’s ass, he kisses her cheek and heads for the back exit. Just as he’s about to around the corner, he hears a familiar voice and a lecherous chuckle.

“Looks like we’re gonna have to take _ this _ one in for questioning.”

Zsasz stops and looks down the hallway where the private rooms are. He grins at Harvey Bullock strutting with his arms draped over the shoulder of a tall, deliciously thick, voluptuous pro. She’s wearing an electric blue overbust corset bustier with a top waist cincher, garter stockings and some impressive, “fuck me” heels. His other hand lovingly strokes the high taper of a shorter man in a grey suit with unimaginative (and sensible) footwear. 

_ Maybe Jim’s not as uptight as I thought. _

In little time, Bullock lowers his hands to grab both his companions’ asses before entering their room. The hitman quietly chuckles and appreciatively nods.

** _That’s _ ** _ the spirit, Bullock. _

—

About an hour later, the door opens. Bullock’s straightening his tie and grabbing his jacket with a big smile on his face. As the man shrugs into the garment, Victor immediately notices the tattoos visible on his chest beneath his shirt, peeking out from his singlet. 

The moment Harvey looks up, he locks eyes with him and his face drops. That’s when Zsasz notices the other guy isn’t Jim but another pro who looks a _ lot _like him. Victor teases the salty vet, appreciatively nodding at the pros still in the room with a wry smirk.

“Way to _ stimulate _ the local economy, _Captain.”_

Normally, Harvey wouldn’t be the least bit embarrassed about being seen in a brothel, but now that Penguin’s goon has seen him with one of his favorite pros (who looks uncannily similar to Jim), he can feel the heat on his face. Bullock gruffs.

“What does Penguin want _now,_ Zsasz? Everyone’s on board with Pax Penguina.”

Victor glances at Jim’s doppelgänger and arches a brow.

“Everyone?”

Bullock puts his hands on his hips and sucks in a big breath.

“Look. You and I both know Jim’s….”

Victor raises his hand to stop the man.

“Yeah, I know. He came by to see Penguin the other day.”

Bullock’s face blanks.

“No way.”

“_Way. _ Even left his badge.”

Harvey blinks with disbelief.

“Bullshit! Prove it.”

Zsasz slowly grins, thinking on Penguin’s hatred of the man.

_ If anyone’s gonna get a rise outta Penguin, it’s Bullock. _

Victor’s certain that, under any other circumstances, he’d never convince Harvey into the Iceberg Lounge alone—unless it involved Jim. Zsasz arches a brow.

“Sure. But if I can prove I’ve got Gordon’s badge, you gotta show me _ all _ your tattoos. Deal?”

Bullock points at the man.

“You’re on.”

Victor’s face splits into a wide smile. He takes another look at the male pro and looks back at Bullock.

“Ever think about givin’ Jim a go yourself? Bet he’d be a _ lot _ more into it than ya think.”

—

After pulling in behind Zsasz, Harvey is _ seriously _ second-guessing his decision to accompany the infamous man to The Iceberg Lounge without backup—especially given the creep’s barely containable smirk.

_ But Jim has been really cagey about Pax Penguina, especially after reporting he misplaced his badge. He really clammed up after you gave him shit about it. _

_ “Wait. What? _ ** _You _ ** _ lost your badge, Jimbo? I was beginning to think you _ ** _slept_ ** _ with that thing.” _

Harvey can still see Jim clear his throat, refusing to discuss the matter any further. He also can’t help but mull over Victor’s comment about Jim’ being “into it” at the brothel.

_ How the fuck would _ ** _he_ ** _ know? _

Harvey keeps a hand on his holster and warily watches the gunman walk ahead of him into the club. Zsasz strides past the bar and heads straight for Penguin’s office. He knocks at the door and waits for an answer. When none comes, he opens it and turns back to Bullock nodding him in.

—>o<—

Penguin looks up at the security cameras when the hitman strides into the club. After watching Victor with Jim, Oswald’s a lot more interested to see who else his enforcer brings for him. He bites his lower lip with anticipation to see, of all people…

_ Harvey Bullock. _

Penguin slowly blinks in shock. 

Harvey Bullock: the surly man who delivered him to the pier in the trunk of his police sedan at the behest of Carmine Falcone. The man who encouraged Jim to end him. The man who has scoffed at him and consistently dismissed him time and time again. The big oaf with those freckles and masculine hands with those thick fingers… who wears those regrettable cheap slacks… who reeks of whatever booze he’s got in his flask. The cheap cologne and rugged masculinity and cynicism with long-lingering notes of self-destructive appetites…. 

Oswald’s eyes grow wide with chagrin and shock when he feels his stirring cock.

—

Harvey swallows and cautiously steps inside the empty office, mind reeling and trying to piece together how in the hell Jim managed to misplace his badge _ here _of all places.

_ Something doesn’t feel right. This has gotta be some kinda trap. _

Victor heads to the other side of the ornate desk and reaches to pull open a drawer. The moment he does, Bullock unholsters his service pistol. Zsasz raises a hand in compliance and pulls down the corners of his mouth, looking into the drawer. He painstakingly reaches inside and pulls out (to Bullock’s disbelief) Jim’s badge. Harvey blinks in shock when the man wiggles it with a smirk and a wink.

Bullock reholsters his piece and approaches the hitman, lips parting as he looks down at the offered badge. He slowly rubs down his face and softly shakes his head in complete disbelief. Harvey nods, accepts the badge and pockets it. 

“Well, fuck me.”

Bullock returns Victor’s gaze, snorts with resignation and shakes his head before proceeding to remove his jacket. Zsasz looks on with twinkling eyes and parting lips.

Harvey reaches for the knot of his tie and loosens it. Just as he’s about to unbutton his shirt, he jumps at the sound of a door swinging open and Penguin shrieking.

_ “Victor!!! Of all the sick and disgusting things you’ve done or could possibly drag in here, you bring _ ** _Bullock?!_ ** _ What the _ ** _hell_ ** _ do you think you’re doing?!” _  
  
Penguin takes a look at Bullock, whose expression is a cross between perplexed and disgusted. He lawman snarks.

“Nice to see you too, Oswald.”

The captain takes a circumspect look back at Victor and nods.

“Uh… _ thanks?_”

Victor grins at the exiting man who’s now shrugging back into his jacket.

“Don’t mention it. Say, be sure to give Jim my best.”

After Bullock leaves, Zsasz turns to his red-faced and screaming boss. The kingpin beats at Victor’s chest and screeches. 

“How could you bring **him ** in here? You know I **hate** him! You’re gonna **pay** for this little stunt!”

Oswald crowds Victor and pushes him back into a guest chair. He unsheathes his dagger and clambers atop his enforcer, grabbing the man’s shirt and holding his blade at the man’s neck. Just as he presses it closer, Victor groans and his eyelids flutter a little. Penguin’s finally close enough to feel Zsasz’s body grow taut beneath him and the warm, soft puffs of breath in his face. 

The moment Victor reaches to touch him, Oswald notices the man’s parted lips and lidded, hazy eyes. Penguin’s eyes grow wicked and he smacks down the man’s leathered hand. He presses the blade close enough that he draws blood. Oswald snarls.

“You, Victor Zsasz, are going to pay _ handsomely _ for your insolence. It seems _ someone’s _ forgotten their station.”

Victor’s body twitches a hair. 

Oswald smirks down at Zsasz’s tells and stirring erection. The kingpin slowly releases the man and reaches to loosen his fine, brocade tie. He leans in and purrs into Victor’s ear, his lips grazing the shell of it as he forces the blade closer to Victor’s bleeding neck.

“This time, _ you’re _going to watch.”

Zsasz’s lips part as he looks back up into those pale, green eyes. 

His face splits into a wide, toothy grin.

**卌**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *giggles*
> 
> Again. Those Zsasz video shenanigans were thanks to lord-garbage, the greatest poop emoji ever. :3 
> 
> And on that note, the ever-lovely and also crazy-talented TheFierceBeast and their Bullock expertise helped me figure out a way for Zsasz to lure Bullock into the Iceberg Lounge—well, that and Donal Logue’s recent IG posts on the beach. His chest ink gave me the idea! Thank you Gotham gods!

**Author's Note:**

> Woah. You made it all the way to the end. 
> 
> Let’s see. First off? Sai? Thanks for signing up for the Gotham Big Bang and for selecting my fic to illustrate—but mostly for the great cover art! :3 
> 
> Y’all. Like seriously. Wanna see more of Sai’s stuff? Go check out SaiScribbles on Tumblr! 
> 
> I’ve wanted to write these stories about Zsasz and the freak fam ever my “If 6 Was 9” fic but never gotta ‘round to it. The Gotham Big Bang challenge finally gave me the nudge and opportunity I needed.
> 
> Filthycasual, ifnot_winter, TheFierceBeast, A_Cautionary_Tale? Y’all are so flippin’ lovely. I can’t thank you enough for being so awesome, your constant love, reassurance and support. FC, thanks for being my beta. I love being fanfic married to you! :3
> 
> Last but not least: for those of y’all who read and gave kudos, but _especially who commented_? Thank you. Fo’ realzies. It’s those of you who take the time to comment who _really_ encourage us to write, draw and create to make more stuff. 
> 
> Love, peace and chicken grease, y’all. <3


End file.
